


Untouched

by Kirsten



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, Female Masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Orgasm, Past Relationship(s), Self-Denial, Sexual Fantasy, Threesome - F/M/M, clitoral stimulation, vow of chastity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: She crossed paths with Uhtred too often for comfort. He would always be temptation. In the privacy of her quarters, Aethelflaed indulges her memories and her dreams.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom), Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Uhtred of Bebbanburg/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom), Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom)/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	Untouched

It was difficult for Aethelflaed to be around Uhtred. Her father would have called it a test of faith, or of strength. If that were true, she must surely be the strongest woman in the world, and the most faithful of God’s servants. Their paths crossed too closely and too often for comfort. He would always be temptation.

“I will leave you now,” said Uhtred, for he had come to Aegelsburg in the night with news of the raids at Mercia’s northern border. He and his men had beaten back the Danes once again, but she knew that even Uhtred’s skill and guile could not keep them at bay forever. The men of Mercia would need to march out and face them, again, even though their numbers were depleted and their winter stores were failing, with spring still weeks away.

“Thank you for your news and counsel, Lord Uhtred,” she said. “Please return north, and I will send word to you when we are ready to march. You will take command of our army in the battles ahead.”

He did not bow in acknowledgement, merely tipped his head. Deference was not Uhtred’s way, and she neither expected nor required it of him; they had been too intimate for such matters. Still, she knew that he would answer her call when she needed him.

“They grow stronger by the day, Lady,” he cautioned. “Be ready soon. My men and I will be waiting.”

She nodded, and his gaze lingered on her as he turned to leave the room. But Aethelflaed of Mercia did not have that luxury, and she turned her eyes away. She could have reached out and grasped his arm, held him back, turned him towards her and pressed her lips to his, pushed him down onto her throne and climbed atop his lap. But the eyes of her ealdormen were on her, never more so than when Uhtred was at court, and so she forced herself to remain seated, silent and remote from such earthly concerns as love and passion.

“Lady, we are not ready for war,” Aldhelm murmured into her ear as her ealdormen began to mutter amongst themselves. She suppressed a shiver; Uhtred’s presence had roused her, and her denial left her aching for even Aldhelm’s unwitting attentions. Dear Aldhelm, who guarded her always and was her right hand in matters of state, who would no more press her for something she could not give than she would press him for something she could not take. They were a matched pair, chaste and untouched to the bitter end.

“We will meet the challenge, as we always have,” she said to him, and then she stood, and the Witan came to attention. “Mercia must face the Danes, and quickly. We will reconvene at first light to decide when and how we will do so. You may leave,” she added, and so they did, with a muted chorus of “Lady” and “Yes, Lady” and “Lady Aethelflaed.” At times even she tired of her name and title.

She left Aldhelm to mingle with the ealdormen and assess their appetite for war, and departed for her rooms. The palace at Aegelsburg was deserted at night, dark and lit by scant few torches along the walls, unlike the palace at Winchester, where there was always a low hum of activity. Monks were not deterred by darkness when her father provided them with so many candles by which to work. Many times Aethelflaed had crept past the library or a monk’s study on her way back from the kitchens or Edward’s room, the cessation of a quill’s faint scratch against parchment an early warning of her detection, and a sign to dash through the corridors to her rooms lest she be reported to her father and mother.

But Aegelsburg was not the centre of learning that was Winchester, and her Queen’s Guard did not stand guard or patrol the corridors through all hours as they should. Battle had diminished their number. Their losses were many, for their queen did insist on fighting herself, and each dead man took with him a world of skill and experience. Soon she might be forced to conscript Uhtred and his men to the task, and what would become of her oath and Mercia if Uhtred were to stand guard outside her door? She ached at the mere thought: Uhtred at her side, available to her whenever she wished, however she wanted.

She entered her chambers and locked the door behind her. She had asked Aldhelm to have the outer locks removed and placed on the inside, so that she was protected from future attempts at confinement. This time and this space belonged to her alone; she would enter and leave according to her own will. 

The fire had grown low in her absence, and she added another log and prodded the embers to make it come alive again. The servants would frown, but she did not care. The flames crackled and jumped, and shadows lept around the room.

She stripped off her dress. The garment had not lessened her arousal. She knew how quickly Uhtred’s clever fingers could relieve her of it, if he even bothered to remove it. She had found over these past months that her thoughts would dwell on such encounters each time she wore a dress, as the fabric billowed in the draughts that breezed through the palace and brushed against her legs, her skirts transformed into phantom, mischievous fingers across her skin. 

Uhtred had no qualms about hiking her skirts up around her waist and parting her legs to get at her cunt. That was surely how it would go, in fact, if Uhtred were to become her personal guard. Their couplings would be quick and silent in the night, against the wall of her chambers, perhaps, or the door, their lust too great to delay even the few steps to her bed. He’d brush her clit with his thumb while he fucked her, would put his mouth on her neck and his hand over her mouth to silence her moans until she tumbled into a desperate, grasping orgasm, her arms wrapped around his head and his shoulders, her leg around his hips to drag him closer so that she could grind against him, the weight and strength of him.

Lord, how she longed for him. She washed at the small basin provided for her in the corner and then lay down on her bed. She was exhausted, yet sleep was elusive. She was restless with need and could not settle, and it was not long before her hand crept down between her thighs.

She was wet. Her fingers slid over her sex, and she ached with want. She pressed her fingers to her clit. Her hips arched into the air at the pressure, and she began to rub her clit in tiny circles, slow and strong at first. She would get faster as her pleasure built; she would be unable to resist.

It was a heavenly sensation, a constant and delightful surprise. She had known almost nothing of her own body as a girl, sent off to the marriage bed to do her duty for Wessex and for Mercia and for her father’s dream of an England. Her servants had led her to her room and pointed silently to the phial of oil on her side table, but she had not understood. Why should she have use of such a thing?

And then she had learned.

But such miseries no longer mattered. Uhtred had taught her this, patiently showing her how to touch herself so that she might experience their joining with all the earthly satisfaction that was available to her, and in future satisfy herself. 

And he had enjoyed watching her learn. “You are a goddess,” he had whispered to her when she fucked her own fingers in and out of her opening, curious at how it might feel without pain, without suffering, without fear and the constant expectation of discovery. Erik had been good to her, gentle and she believed true-hearted, but they had not been able to luxuriate in their love as she had with Uhtred.

“You are a kind man,” she had whispered back to him, and he had smiled at her words and shaken his head.

But it was a sentiment she believed with her whole heart. He was so openly appreciative of her actions that she could not even begin to feel embarrassment or shame. For surely there was purpose in this gift from God? To keep her sane and steady, to help her feel strong and capable, so that she might be comfortable in her power. She had grown beyond the girl who knew nothing of herself. She was Aethelflaed of Mercia, Aethelflaed of Wessex, and she ruled absolute: her state, her wealth, her body, her mind. She was beholden to no man. She was grateful to Uhtred for his teaching, but this bliss belonged to her, as it had always belonged to her, even when she did not know it. 

She pinched her nipples through her undergarments, and then stroked her hand up and across her chest, her neck, over her lips. She put her fingers in her mouth, both to stifle her sounds and to enjoy the sensation of her mouth filled. It was a reminder of a subtle and secret pleasure, the ability to control a man without speech or touch beyond that from her lips, and the sweet surrender of service to a man she loved, allowing him to sate himself in her while she protested not.

If only her ealdormen could see the Lady Aethelflaed now, wanton with lust, on her back with her legs spread, her pussy wet and demanding as she dreamed of the Lord Uhtred’s cockhead against her tongue. No doubt her face was flushed with desire. They would fall over themselves to fuck her, they would do it without hesitation, for they were men who would always struggle to resist enforcing their will upon her. That was the true power of her chastity, she had come to learn, and of her private pleasure. She remained content while they burned with frustration, and fought amongst themselves for her favour.

What would Aldhelm think of her? He was more devotee than counsellor at times. He would be too stricken to act upon his love, she thought as she began to lightly tap her clit, to better prolong the sensation. He would be afraid of her fearlessness. She would need to teach him how to please her, how to touch her gently, and where.

“Like this,” she’d murmur as she guided his hand to her sex.

“I do not wish to hurt you, Lady,” he would say, for he would call her by her title even as he made love to her. She would laugh at him for his caution, for his unnecessary need to avoid any likeness to Aethelred, but she would not be unkind.

“You could not,” she would tell him, an attempt to reassure, and he would kiss her and press his fingers to her clit with only a little more force.

His kiss would be delicate and refined, Aldhelm somehow polite and reverential even in matters of intimacy, despite his buried passion. He was nothing like Uhtred. Aldhelm was reserved, considered in his every action. He would treat her as a queen; Uhtred saw her as a woman first and foremost, a woman to be teased and enjoyed, manhandled and bedded.

“Why do you allow me to sit astride you?” she had wondered, the first time he had flipped her so that he was the one on his back, staring up at her.

He had stroked his hands up her thighs, her torso, until he reached her breasts and began to pinch and roll her nipples. “Does it not feel good?”

“I am… unaccustomed to it,” she had confided, thinking only of her brutish husband, and her sweet Erik’s preference for looking down at her.

“Then we shall have to do it more often,” Uhtred said, with the playful grin she had always found so beguiling. “The view is good, Lady. You are beautiful,” he had said as he gazed into her eyes, and she had blushed from her neck to the roots of her hair. She was a woman Uhtred loved and desired, a woman he would serve and protect at all times; and it was a heady thing, to be desired by a man like Uhtred of Bebbanburg.

She had taken him in her mouth for the first time that night, and he had taught her that, too, or at least, he had taught her how to please him and she thought the techniques would work just as well for any man. Uhtred had liked her tongue on the head of his cock, on his balls, on the thick vein that ran down the length of him. He had liked to stroke her hair and face as she kissed her way down to the root, had enjoyed running his thumb over her lips when she had taken him inside. She had liked it, too, and she had indulged herself many times.

But it was not one-sided. Uhtred had used his mouth on her many times, had seemed to find great joy in yet another act that she had needed coaxing to. He had kissed her from her belly to her mound, had licked her from her clit to her opening, had even penetrated her with his tongue. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and she had covered her face with shock that he would do such a thing, even as she wanted to be tasted and known so closely.

He paused to look up at her. “You enjoy that, Lady?” 

“I do,” she said, breathless with desire. “I never imagined such a thing,” she added, and he had smiled up at her, delighted by his discovery, and then she had grown impatient.

“Uhtred, you will continue,” she ordered, and she put her hands into his hair and pushed his face back down where it best belonged, in service to her pleasure.

He had fucked her with his tongue for several more long, slow minutes, and then he had slipped his fingers inside her and suckled at her clit until she could not hold back her moans and she reached her peak, shuddering and digging her heels into his back, his head trapped between her thighs.

Her clit jumped under her fingers at the memory, hard and aching. How she longed to feel his mouth again.

Would Aldhelm do the same, she wondered? Would he please her so selflessly? Would he know how? She had known Aldhelm for decades, but she had never known him take a woman. Was he so in love with her that he could not function with another?

Or perhaps his tastes lay elsewhere, beyond his love for her. Would a man satisfy him? Would Uhtred? She shivered at so forbidden a thought. They were both handsome and kind, strong and clever. And Aldhelm had such admiration for Uhtred; would he take what he wanted from Uhtred, if he could not take it from her? Would they feel her absence?

But Aldhelm was so hesitant in his own desires, had failed to pursue her even before her vow, and she found to her surprise that it was Uhtred on his knees in her imagination, his mouth stretched wide and wet around Aldhelm’s cock as he guided Aldhelm to satisfaction. He would make sure Aldhelm knew how to handle him for best effect, how to love him quick and slow and close, and he would help Aldhelm teach him the same in return. 

“Like this,” Uhtred would say to Aldhelm, his hand around Aldhelm’s wrist as Aldhelm’s hand was around his cock, and he would teach Aldhelm the same rhythm he had taught to her, so many years ago. 

And, “Here,” Uhtred would say as he placed Aldhelm’s big hands on either side of his head, so that Aldhelm could control the speed and depth of his cock in Uhtred’s mouth. Perhaps he could coax Aldhelm beyond his customary restraint, as he had coaxed her into greater knowledge of her own flesh.

She had shocked herself with these thoughts. Aethelflaed laughed at herself as she rubbed her clit in faster, tighter, harder circles, and she slipped the fingers of her other hand down from her mouth and into herself to tease her opening. But perhaps she should not have been surprised by the turn her thoughts had taken, for Uhtred was a man who revelled in lust, a man in love with love and all the pleasures it could bring. He saw no shame in anything they had done. And he was generous with his mouth, and his tongue.

She could take them both, Aethelflaed thought as she rubbed faster and harder. Aldhelm, who needed teaching, and Uhtred, the greatest teacher she could imagine, and the greatest servant of her pleasure. She, Aethelflaed, the Lady of Mercia, queen in all but name – she could seduce both of them to her bed if she so chose. She could take Uhtred into her mouth and Aldhelm in her cunt, Uhtred’s hands in her hair and Aldhelm’s on her hips. She would be on all fours and they would both bend and kiss her back, biting and sucking at her skin, and then perhaps they would kiss each other above her.

“Look at our Lady of Mercia,” Uhtred might say to Adlhelm between kisses, and he would stroke a hand down her spine. “She likes to be reminded that she is a woman.”

“She is perfect,” Aldhelm would say, and his fingers would tighten on her hips and his thrusts into her would hasten.

The vision toppled her over into orgasm. Her body froze with pleasure for a mere second, and then her hips flexed up and down as if she humped against a lover. To have them both, and forever. She could do it, they would belong to her and no other, she would rely on them always, and they would always do her bidding.

She would be the most powerful woman in England with Uhtred and Aldhelm by her side. Her warrior and her politician. She would be invincible.

Her breathing calmed and her restlessness eased at last. She lay limp and open on her bed, her thighs still spread. Her muscles fluttered and pulsed deep inside. She rubbed her pussy and her stomach, lazy with her touches, and she stretched her arms up above her head. She grinned up at the ceiling, true self-satisfaction, and then she laughed aloud – what a joy it always was.

“Uhtred and Aldhelm,” she whispered to herself, as she slid under her blankets. What a thought. What a romance it would be. 

She laughed again and sighed, for it was a foolish dream. It could never be. She could not be with Uhtred, any more than she could be with Aldhelm. They would soon be discovered, and then the ealdormen would no longer compete for her favour, for it would already be lost. Instead, they would conspire against her and her lovers. Perhaps they would call her a whore and stir up the people against her. Or they might attempt to entrap one or both of her lovers into acting against her.

Neither Uhtred nor Aldhelm would fall for such a trap, of course. They would not betray her. And Uhtred could quash any rebellion. 

There would be no rebellion. She would not become a pawn and a plaything, a creature to be used and discarded as men desired. That could not happen again. She would not allow it.

In any case, she was already the most powerful woman in England. And no man could touch her.


End file.
